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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725606">Ewww Middle School Boys</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzombieyum/pseuds/zzombieyum'>zzombieyum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bandom, My Chemical Romance, The Used</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bullying, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Middle School</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:23:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27725606</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zzombieyum/pseuds/zzombieyum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bert McCracken is the definition of an angsty middle school boy.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bert McCracken/Gerard Way</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ewww Middle School Boys</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is essentially word vomit but hopefully it will turn into something! I have a few ideas. Basically, I'm really bored in rehab so thought I'd try pumping out a new fic.</p>
<p>This chapter is told from Bert's POV</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bert’s POV</p>
<p>I fucking hate school.</p>
<p>To be specific, I hate middle school. I hate this stupid fucking math class. I hate everything, and don’t you dare tell me that it’s because I’m thirteen. Don’t you try to tell me some shitty cliché like “it’ll get better when you’re older”. Because I know it won’t.</p>
<p>11:00 - 12:00 math class is my least favorite class. Mr. Toro is a pretty good teacher, and the class makes me feel ok because I’m actually pretty good at math. But some of the other kids in class can be total assholes.</p>
<p>I sit in the back of the class, by the door. Mr. Toro isn’t in the room yet so I doodle song lyrics on some paper from my notebook. “Won't you think I'm pretty when I'm standing top the bright lit city...” My long, dark hair veils my face from my classmates, like a shield. I hear students shuffling around me, but I always keep to myself. Always.</p>
<p>Except when it comes to him.</p>
<p>He sits in the last row, like me, except he sits on the other side of the classroom, by the window. The draws in a well-worn sketchbook when he isn’t daydreaming out the window. I always feel curious about him, and I guess I want to talk to him… But who would want to talk to me? I keep to myself because I don’t really trust anyone. But this kid? Maybe. Just maybe.</p>
<p>My thoughts are interrupted by the entrance of Mr. Toro into the classroom. He begins the lesson, but my mind is drifting. Maybe I should talk to this kid. I don’t even know his name though, and he’ll probably just laugh at me like every other kid in this mother fucking school.</p>
<p>I’m interrupted from my thoughts by a sudden cruel chuckle coming from the seat in front of me. It’s Bob. Mother fucker. He turns in his chair and smirks, then hands me a note.</p>
<p>I have the urge to crumple it up and just throw it at Bob, but I’m far too tired. Instead I open, expecting cruel words but I’m too emotionally exhausted to give a shit.</p>
<p>I see you drooling over Way. Fucking gay bitch, gonna kick your pansy ass.</p>
<p>I don’t even feel hurt. I’m angry but also so numb. Bob is a total asshole, what did I expect? I crumple up the paper as the bell rings. I’m pissed off and so tired of everything. I just want to disappear and punch Bob in the face at the same time. I want to punch the whole school in the face. As I walk out the door, I almost miss the look on his face. Concern and hurt. For me? Whatever. I’m so mad I don’t even care that the pretty art kid is looking like he actually cares about me. I’m so angry at the world that I don’t have the capability to care that he looks like he’s worried at me. I just don’t care.</p>
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